My Lasting Memories

There are many and I will write them as they come to my mind.

Stepping on British soil next to John, very much in love.
Strolling and discovering his town hand in hand , beautiful Shrewsbury,
birthplace of Charles Darwin.
Walking to corners that he had never stopped to look before
and cycling among the groves of cedars, oaks, limes and weeping willows.
Walking barefooted on the English turf in the Quarry,
those 29 acres of green where originally
the stone was obtained to build houses.
Dazzled by the striking colour of flowers everywhere
the delicately manicured gardens of the Dingle.
And the Severn River ... the longest river in Great Britain,
historic bridges, arches, iron,
buildings and stories of war and depression
and flourish and progress.
The boat ride from Victoria Quay on the ferry Sabrina,
a mermaid who drowned in the river, according to the myth.
And the ducks and swans.
The car rides through the English countryside
towards Newport and Hereford and Worcester
to meet daughters and granddaughters and friends
and welcomes with hugs and joy,
warmth and affection.
The cathedrals, the street markets,
the customs, idiosyncrasies, the food.
Bridgnorth, Ironbridge and Coalport,
and lunch at the pub which John's grandparents owned.

One of the memories that will never be erased
is having visited St Michael's church
and the adjacent cemetery, the graveyard,
where John's dad is buried,
Roy Richards, who died when he was three.
Those pictures are ours and are not on Facebook,
in respect of his memory.

And then the way to North Wales, a dreamed place
a completely different language,
The "caravan" that his family have used for their holidays since 1966,
beautiful, comfortable and cozy,
a week, the two of us by ourselves.
The castles of Conwy and Caernafon.
Those towers, those cold walls which were inhabited one day
by kings, queens, dukes, nobles and commoners,
and were stained with blood in countless battles,
the history I once studied I could now feel and breathe.. .
The sea, the beach, the golden sunsets, the seagulls,
Llandudno pier with its Victorian air
Bangor pier and that delicious cream tea in the Pavilion Café,
Betws y coed, a beautiful village in the heart of Snowdonia,
The Island of Anglesey and the lighthouse at Penmon,
the ruins of an old church and the dove cot.
The train station with the longest name in the Welsh language,
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogochuchaf,
the ruins of Orm, malachite, copper,
the oldest and deepest mines in Europe, to which we arrived by tram
Llangollen, and a national relic, the steam locomotive proudly preserved,
and my excitement for being invited into the cab by the driver
and see the coal and the flames burn.
And then ... Liverpool, home to the greatest fab four.
Standing in front of John Lennon's home,
walking down Penny Lane and reliving the song,
finding the famous Strawberry Fields orphanage gate,
the Cavern, that underground club which saw and heard so much.
Modernized docks which retain the past,
Liverpool Wheel, which lets you see the manufacturing horizon of 1800
the building of White Star line, owners of the Titanic,
where hundreds of people met
to find the fate of their loved ones in the sinking.
The Mersey River and the ferry,
unforgettable Liverpool.
The World Cup lived from afar, the emotion,
the urge to cheer and wear the blue and white shirt,
and scream like crazy at the sight of an Argentinian flag.
Preparing to fly to France by Ryanair,
Irish airline bound to the French South,
where the rest of the family were waiting for a holiday all together.
The green fields, the sunflowers, the Pyrenees,
villages, communes, the Middle Ages,
Serres sur Arget and Cambie,
Foix and its imposing chateaux,
Tarascon and the clock on the hill
and Col de Port with its incredible view of the mountain range.
The fortified town of Carcassonne,
Picturesque Mirapoix and its coloured buildings,
Ax Les Thermes, the Roman baths
and the chairlift to the top of the Pyrenees.
Awesome Mas D'Azil cave,
breakfasts, lunches, dinners, picnics,
all the family gathered around the big table,
the nibbles, the crepes , the croissants and thecheese!
The Tour de France,
watching live all those professional cyclists in the peloton was amazing.
And the goodbyes, hugs and tears, the see you soon.
Returning to England, train trip from Shrewsbury Railway Station to Birmingham,
the last two days of our trip were eventually four
and the inconvenience that was convenient.
The offer of euros by the airline to fly one day after
and our decision to return.
The desire to be with my daughters
with whom I spoke on the phone every day,
which made the distance not so distant.
Knowing that they were strong, well behaved,
and that they we waited for us patiently.
The support of my parents, my sister and my brother in law,
of the friends who gave me a hand,
and all the affection of all who wished us well.

Many are my memories, we lived every moment intensely,
tourism, family, an immersion in a culture.
Having spoken English,
language to which I devoted practically all my life, for a month,
listening to different accents and intonations,
music to my ears.
And a family, an English family, my new family,
who received me with open arms and kisses and smiles,
with warmth and affection,
with whom I shared unforgettable moments.
A family that made me feel good,
who made me feel one of them,
regardless of our cultural differences and language barriers.
I have taken their son, father and brother from their side
and I have brought him to my country far away from them,
and still I feel they love me...

I'm happy to have made this trip with the person I love and who loves me,
who I have been with for just two years and a half
and with whom I feel the luckiest woman in the world